


Havae's Vallaslin

by Ranaspel



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Camping, Elvhen, Flashback, Flirting, Other, Post Dorian quest, Post Iron Bull quest, Post Winter Palace, Tattoo, Vallaslin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranaspel/pseuds/Ranaspel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While travelling Havae Lavellan, Solas, Dorian, and The Iron Bull make camp for the night.  Dorian has been doing some research, and has a question about Havae's tattoos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A question...

**Author's Note:**

> The Prologue is pretty mild, but things will be getting pretty violent as the story progresses. 
> 
> On the elvish:  
> Ha'ghi'myela is as close as I can guess to "Lead Hunter" for the clan, since that is never cited as an actual position. (ha=elder/wise, ghi'myela=animal hunter, hopefully translating to "wise hunter".  
> Ghi'lan is "guide/teacher"

~~~Prologue~~~

“A question, esteemed Inquisitor.” His tone was droll as always, but his expression had that slight softness to it that meant he was about to get personal. It would have been easy to miss in the dusky light but for Havae’s elvhen eyesight. Dorian lounged with that calculatedly relaxed pose that made him look like he was at a fete with servants surrounding him even though they were in the middle of the wilderness with an open fire pit before them. 

“You don’t have to talk about it of course, but I had been wondering.” His dark eyes were studying her face. Solas looked up from his unrolling a sleeping pack, sensing something about Dorian’s manner, or maybe just curious about what the human was about to come up with this time. Lately they had come to an equilibrium, a mutual respect between two highly intelligent mages. Havae was glad of it. While she and Dorian had clashed a few times early on, they had quickly become surprisingly close. She never would have guessed that she would have bonded so well with a human, never mind one from the Tevinter Imperium, a place that habitually made slaves of her people. She knew he felt the same way, befriending a “savage” elf from the uncultured and backwards Southern continent. With Solas and Dorian it had taken longer, with a lot more circling around each other and mental scuffling. Her wide mouth quirked in a smile at the remembered griping between the two, culminating in Dorian asking Solas about his dancing naked in the moonlight and making flowers bloom with his song. Green eyes slide from Dorian to Solas, remembering a different moonlight dance entirely. The susurrus of ball goers inside the palace while he held her body close to his in a sweeping flowing dance. He had been in a fey mood all that night, drunk not as much on wine as on memories from the Fade, of the grandeur that was once the elvhen nation. He had made her feel like she knew that dance, as if the graceful movements were a part of her, of them. Her smile shifted to something more avaricious as she gazed at Solas’s profile and started to think of some other things she’d like to do with him.

“Your tattoos, the Vallaslin.” Dorian’s careful pronunciation of the elvish word snapped her out of her reverie. Solas’s body stiffened ever so slightly, a shadow over his expression. 

“Sourpuss.” Rumbled out Bull from his nearby hammock. He may have had only one eye, but he was after all a trained spy. One that was now loyal to her after his break with the Qunari. With Solas and Bull’s past interactions (at some points she almost thought they would come to blows) she had been surprised and touched with how thoroughly Solas had dropped any residual ill feelings from their arguing to reach out to Bull and show him that he not only could live without the Qun, but that he was the same person he had always been. It had amazed her how he could alleviate the despair that threatened to overwhelm the gigantic mercenary by engaging his mind, proving to him he was no uncontrollable beast. Solas was now casting an annoyed look at Bull, but quickly smoothed over his features and continued laying out his bedroll, studiously shrugging off the comment while Bull looked sardonic. 

“Ahem. As I was saying, if you don’t want to-”

“No Dorian, it’s quite all right.” She gave a little laugh. “I’m surprised it took you this long to ask, actually.”

“Well I didn’t want to be boorish about it, so I had done some research on the matter. Unsurprisingly, there isn’t much to be had, but I gleaned a few things and had a question about your tattoos specifically. Apparently each tattoo is a dedication to the elvhen gods, but the one you have isn’t the expected bow and arrow pattern.”

Havae blinked in surprise. She had thought he was going to ask the same question that most outsiders do, like if they had hurt to get, or why get them in the first place. Thinking about it, she realized she should have known he wouldn’t just stumble into a possible social faux pas like that. “You’re right, Dorian. As a hunter in my clan, it would be more…Likely for my tattoos to be a dedication to Andruil. It was actually somewhat of a surprise to have them turn out otherwise.”

“Oooh, there’s gotta be a story behind that!” Bull grins and positions his hands behind his head to prop himself up a bit. This time it’s Dorian who is giving him an annoyed look, likely for interrupting his chain of thought (and just as likely because he horned in on the juicy details before Dorian could ask for them). She found out early on that the two of them enjoyed needling each other endlessly. It wouldn’t be surprising if they were keeping score with who has made the other more annoyed. 

Arranging his face into a more polite expression, Dorian looks sideways at Havae. “Hmmph. Well, are you going to let me expire from curiosity after dangling a tidbit like that in front of me?” he asks with mock sternness, then gives one of his increasingly common “real” smiles, the one that put aside the Tevinter facade of cultured boredom and permitted the genuinely kind person he was to show. It made his normally coolly arrogant handsome features become something far more warm. In the background she could see Bull lose some of his mocking expression and exchange it for something more speculative. 

Hesitating a moment, Havae glances at Solas from under her lashes. He was sensitive about the Dalish. When he had told her how he had been treated when he tried approaching some clans, she understood why. Still, maybe if he knew a bit more about her particular clan…After all, he did love learning things, something he had in common with Dorian. Bull too, for that matter although for different reasons. Coming to a decision, she sits upright on her bedroll, folding her legs in the formal seated position that storytellers in her clan seemed to always adopt. 

“When I was still a young girl, I knew I loved the woods as much as I loved my family and clan. I would spend as many hours stolen away there as I could, which was quite vexing for my parents, I can tell you. Sometimes they would say that I must be part spirit to flit off so.” At this she sees Solas look a bit startled, and then smile softly with a shake of his head as if amused at the notion of her being one of his spirit friends. “As I grew older I was taught by our Ha'ghi’myela, our clan’s Hunter.” Her eyes stare out into the darkening surroundings, seeing a memory. “I was determined to make him proud, that when I came of age I would wear the Vallaslin that would proclaim to all that I, too, was a master of the hunt.” Coming back to the present, she looks at her companions with amusement. “I was not all that convinced of the gods having a divine interest in elvhen kind, but I knew most definitely that I would be viewed as an adult and a true successor to my ghi'lan if I earned those Vallaslin. I wanted that dearly.” Dorian has a mildly perturbed expression, as if trying to decide if it counts as heresy if it’s not the Maker’s power being denied. Bull remains neutral as after all, he just shrugged off his entire religious culture and could hardly judge. Solas was looking consideringly at her, as if finding something unexpected. His voice quested out. “So you wanted the Vallaslin for yourself and not to venerate the gods? That is…Interesting.” 

“Yes indeed, but that doesn’t tell us why you ended up with a different god’s tribute.” Interrupted Dorian.

Pleased with Solas’s response and smiling impartially at her friends, Havae closes her eyes and was transported back to that day. “I had fasted for a day and a night as is custom,” she began.

~~~


	2. The dry trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Havae tells how her trial started.

~~~

Hunger had faded some time ago, leaving her body feeling light and almost ethereal. She kneeled with some items arrayed before her on a blanket. Her bow, which she had cut from a living tree, seasoned for a year and worked into a powerful hunting tool. The string, which she had spun out of cordage and wove into a cable that was strong and flexible. Her quiver of arrows, each one selected from second year growth saplings, cured for months and then straightened over a fire. Even the feathers used for fletching, the very glue holding them in place along with string spun around the shafts were all made with her own hands with the guidance of her teacher. The arrowheads are deadly sharp, knapped from specially selected stone that could almost make the air bleed. The leather of the quiver was from a deer she had hunted herself, dressing and curing the hide, pride in every step of its creation. These would be the only things she would take with her while she earned her Vallaslin. 

“Havae? Are you ready, my eolas’esayelan?” Her Ghi’lan’s warm voice preceded him into the alcove. She struggled to look solemn for her beloved instructor of the hunt, but she couldn’t help the excited smile that bloomed on her face. 

“Yes, Ghi’lan.” She closed her eyes and leaned against his leg when he drew near. She felt him rest his hand comfortingly on the crown of her head. “Will you worry for me while I am out on my trial?” 

“Da’assan, wretched child, you would have me think you inept? Come, ready your gear before the sun rises and Elgar’nan breathes down on us this day.” Lightly cuffing her to show she wasn’t fooling him but chuckling to soften the sting, he steps over to her hunting gear, looking down at the kit approvingly. 

“As you say, fen’shan. We don’t want your old bones to shrivel up in the heat.” Despite her teasing words, she obediently moves into action. She swiftly lifts each arrow, sighting down the shaft, examining each one for the slightest flaw or bend. Each one is perfect as she knew they would be, eight arrows to represent the gods, and a ninth reserved for Fen’Harel. Each arrow is slid into her quiver which is slung over her shoulder. She then lifts her bow and examines it just as closely as her arrows, checking for warping, lifted splinters or any other weaknesses. The wood is smooth, pristine. After examining the bowstring, she loops it around the nock and bends her bow to string it. Normally she wouldn’t string her bow before she was settled in for a hunt, but this day is different. From this point on she will keep her bow in hand until Andruil sends a test her way (or, as she privately believed, that she found something to test herself with.) She and her mentor had travelled over full day from the clan’s encampment, enduring the summer’s heat which had been unusually powerful this year, drying up creeks and cracking the dirt. Even in the shaded woods it was sweltering. Everyone was worried that if it kept up much longer that the plants would suffer, which would lead to the animals suffering including the people. Winters after a drought resulted in many deaths, even for a people who could move to a better location. After all, how can you outrun the sun cooking the land? 

Touching her knife in the sheath on her leg to make sure it was settled in place, she looks at her mentor with her wide green eyes. He is an older man, but one of those types that are difficult to place the age of aside from “old”. His skin is dark and leathery, his hair white and his eyes so dark as to be nearly black. The bold Vallaslin of Andruil, the hunter, marked him as an adept of the hunt. The strong diagonal lines representing bows and arrows made his lean face look even more angular. That combined with his reputation as a stalking hunter had given him the nickname of Fen years ago, and indeed he had something of the wolf about him with his lean build. He looked back at her solemnly. She knew what he would see. A girl with a mouth that was a touch too wide to be considered beautiful, with a face that was overwhelmed with brilliant green eyes that were nearly an unnatural shade, or so some muttered. Even for one of the people they were considered large, and many of the other races had found them off putting. Her skin was something she could take some comfort in, it was smooth and evenly colored, like an expensive porcelain cup she had once seen. Her long hair was bound up behind her head and was a color that some races would call reddish brown, or maybe auburn if they were feeling a little more poetic. As for her body she was much like the rest of the people, slender with corded muscle from their active lifestyle, supple and swift. Not exceptionally tall or short, but supremely adapted for her life of constant travel and hunting. They looked at each other for a long moment, the solemnity of the occasion finally giving Havae a serious mein. 

“Dar’eth shiral, eolas’esayelan.” 

“Tas dar'eth, ghi’lan.” 

With a bow of her head and her free hand lifted in farewell, she strides out of the grotto and into the woods in the murky pre-dawn air. She was unfamiliar with this area and so was even more cautious of her movements, taking care not to rustle the dry branches that reached out towards her or to stumble on the roots underfoot that threatened to snag at her feet. She wandered where whim took her, making note of anything interesting while keeping her awareness focused on her surroundings. There grew a hanging vine that was not safe to touch without gloves being worn, and there was an abandoned nest, chicks long outgrown its use. Slowly birds woke from their slumber, sleepily calling out to one another as they planned their day’s activities. The light gradually grew stronger, and she could see the occasional cobweb gleaming from branch to branch like the most delicate thread. There was no dew, which made for more comfortable travel but was disturbing to her as a sign that this day would be as hot as the past week. The small animals would need to travel far for water this day. For that matter, the large animals were moving about while the air was still cool, or as cool as it would be this day. Deer had been stirring for a while, picking their way as carefully as she was, some oblivious to her existence, others catching sign of her and either staring or bounding away. The longer she traveled, the brighter everything seemed. One part of her mind said of course that’s the case, the sun is coming up, but another part of her knew it had something to do with the vigil she had held combined with the fasting. She smiled as butterflies flitted past her, their colorful wings flashing across the blue sky that she could now see through the treeline. The ground had been rising steadily and had gotten rockier. Standing in the shade at the edge of the trees she is assaulted by the full sun and a blast of noise and scent, which she realized had been trickling to her through the woods for some time. A herd of Elk were snorting and grunting to each other in the manner they were wont to as they milled around in the clearing before her. Amazed, she watched as the massive animals shifted around, eating anything in reach and drinking from the a nearby creek. In her current state it seemed momentous, but as she watched nothing called to her as being particularly special or challenging and therefore was taboo for her. Looking at the lay of the land, she could see the creek continued downhill, leaving a grassy swathe between itself and the forest. She silently melted back into the woods, but this time followed the edge of the forest downhill since that direction seeming as good as any other. 

Sweat trickled down her ribs and rolled down her back under her leather jerkin. It was tempting to take it off, but the protection it offered from her surroundings was too great. Plus it kept the biting insects off her torso. They were becoming a greater problem for her head and hands, driving her nearly to distraction. Apparently they thought the sun was too hot like every other creature so they had amassed in the small protection the trees offered. She decided that much more of this and she would go faceplant into the creek, no matter how shallow the water was. Edging closer to the grassy sward, she looked longingly at the bank. Normally the water would be at least twice as high but with the water so low it had left the bank's sides steeply sloping down to the water. Getting in wouldn’t be a huge problem, she could just jump, but having only one free hand would make for a problematic exit. 

Instinctively every muscle froze as a deep roar vibrated through her body. Eyes wide she looks around as much as she can without moving her head, frantically searching, but another roar accompanied by faint screaming makes her realize the noise is coming from further downhill. Screaming? Those are words being shouted! Someone is being attacked! Before she even realizes what she’s doing her feet are rushing her through the woods, bounding like a Halla over deadfall, using her bow to slide branches out of the way and her free hand to whip her around interfering trees. Vaguely she notes that there is stonework cropping up as she runs. Ruins? Another roar, more screaming, they must be nearly in front of her. Sliding to a stop she gasps for breath and takes the last few steps at the boundary of the forest and deeply sucks in air, forgetting the heat, forgetting her burning lungs, forgetting her quest. A dragon. A male drake, wings ridiculously undersized for him but flared out and snapping in the air as he faces off with two lightly armored people. A third lays on the ground, screaming in a pool of his own blood on the worked stone ground. More screaming from the side, Havae tears her eyes away from the prone man to see people, Humans and Dwarves both, scrambling around fallen pillars. With a shock she realizes that she knows one of them, a woman merchant from the nearby Human town that her clan would occasionally trade with. 

~~~

“Woah, holy shit, you for real ran into a DRAGON?!” Bull swung a leg out of the hammock so he could sit up. “That’s AWESOME! You were just a kid, going out doing your freaky elf thing, and BAM! DRAGON!” He flops back, making the ropes of the hammock creak alarmingly while he grins up at the star studded sky. “What did it look like?”

Dorian and Solas look highly offended at the interruption, but Havae can’t help but laugh at Bull’s enthusiasm. She knew the dragon would get his attention like nothing else. “Well, I mentioned that his wings were smaller than they should have been, he seemed stunted. Not tainted, but like how a chick comes out of the egg and doesn’t thrive but manages to survive somehow. I didn’t realize at the time because I was terrified and I had never seen a dragon before, but he was much smaller than he probably should have been and his colors were muted. He looked like he would normally have been mostly bronze or gold, but he was so filthy that it was hard to tell. He looked like he was starving, the ribs were visible even under the scales. Of course, that just makes a predator even more dangerous when its desperate, and even as a stunted creature it was bigger than the largest bear I’ve ever seen…”

“Good Maker! Just how many beasts like that had you run into?” exclaimed Dorian, forgetting to look blasé. 

Laughter in her voice, Havae teases “Well I AM a savage elf, sleeping on a fresh bear pelt each night and starting the morning off by throwing stones at the sun to make it rise faster.” Dorian shoots her an unamused look and she relents. “Actually our settlement was quite safe, thanks to the hunter scouts. That was part of what I did, ensure that everyone at home was safe by keeping away anything dangerous.” She catches Solas’s blue eyes examining her and hears him murmur “I think I can see where this is going.” 

“Oh, of COURSE you do.” snarks Dorian back at him. “Well, I want to know what happens next. Obviously the terrible beast didn’t devour our intrepid Inquisitor, but that’s hardly all there is to it.”

“Ah, yes, well I was in the bushes, looking at this ruin with Humans and Dwarves running and screaming while the two guards were trying to fend off the dragon, heart pounding…

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping that the jumping back and forth works, it's been a long time since I've written a story.
> 
> On the elvish:  
> Ha'ghi'myela is as close as I can guess to "Lead Hunter" for the clan, since that is never cited as an actual position. (ha=elder/wise, ghi'myela=animal hunter, hopefully translating to "wise hunter".  
> Ghi'lan is "guide/teacher"  
> eolas’esayelan is "student"  
> Da’assana is an endearment meaning "little arrow"  
> fen'shan is "old wolf"  
> Dar'eth shiral is "go safely on your journey"  
> Tas dar'eth is "go safely as well"  
> 


	3. Nine Arrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One wounded, several hiding, and two fighters. I'm sure an Elf will make all the difference.

~~~

Her entire body felt like she had fallen into an icy cold lake. A part of her mind noted what must have happened before she came on to the scene. The Humans and Dwarves had met at these ruins as a good location to broker a trade, and were taken unawares by the famished dragon. The man on the ground had been blindsided, and the guards had taken action to keep the man from getting dragged away or just eaten outright. Even as she watched, the Dwarven guard was knocked over by the dragon’s lashing tail and as his head dove down with mouth agape and teeth ready to rend, the other guard flung her shield up into the raging dragon’s mouth only for it to break with a crack. The woman shrieked in pain as her arm was crushed between wood and fang, and once again Havae was moving, leaping out of the concealing foliage with an arrow nocked and pulled back to her cheek. The moment she landed she let the arrow fly, aiming for one of the great beast’s eyes. Nictitating membrane and eyelid slam shut as the arrow glances off a scaled cheek. It must have hurt since it reacted by bellowing and thrashing its head back, dropping the woman guard to her knees. She's momentarily elated, then the emotion pops like a soap bubble as malicious slit eyes rear back and focus on the source of its pain. 

“Dahn’direlan!” she breathed out as she scrambled to the side in an attempt to lead its gaze away from the prone fighters. Her hand had unconsciously pulled another arrow out of her quiver and put it to the string without so much as glancing at it. Peripherally she could see the woman fighter struggling to her feet, sword still in hand. The prone Dwarf was already up and scrambled towards the battle axe which had been knocked out of his hands. The movement and noise attracted the dragon’s attention and it began to swing its head towards them. They would both be torn apart if the dragon fell upon them at this point. 

“Ma! Isenatha! Over here, dragon!” When the dragon whipped its head back in her direction at the end of her shout, she drew back and released another arrow, this one a direct hit on the broad chest scales. With some horror she notes that the arrowhead shattered. With even more horror she realises that the dragon was about to grant her wish of leaving the guards alone by charging at her. Anchoring herself and focusing at the exact spot she wanted to hit, she drew, nocked, and fired her bow in one smooth movement. The moment she breathed out her release she knew her arrow would strike home at the bend of the left foreleg where the scales were small and flexible. The hot rancid air of the drake’s breath was blasting into her face as she scrambled out of the way to the dragon’s left, counting on it not being able to put weight on the just struck leg. Indeed, it screeched in pain and reared up on its hind legs, tiny wings flared out behind it as it awkwardly stomped around to face her as it desperately mouthed at the protruding arrow. Momentarily she feels elated, she’s standing against a dragon! The emotion sinks as the dragon continues to curl to the left and catches sight of a Human and Dwarf dragging away the prone Dwarf that had been bleeding on the ground, trying to get him to the dubious shelter of some tumbled pillars. Hissing at the sight of its prey escaping, the scaled beast ignores her entirely to snap at the scrambling people, who scream in terror. 

“HEY! NUG HUMPER!” An axe hacks the dragon upside the head, sending scales and blood flying. The Dwarven guard had regained his feet and engaged the dragon. The Human guard with the mangled arm looked dangerously pale, her left arm tucked tight to her body but still wielding her sword and trying to land a strike. The enraged dragon screams loud enough for the sound to be painful and everyone reels as the dragon thrashes around, spraying blood through the air in a fine arc. Not nearly enough blood for it to be a fatal hit, and Havae realizes that they will be fortunate indeed to survive this if a blow like that barely staggered the monster. Fighting off the urge to keep her ears covered, she quickly fires off two arrows in succession, hoping that with her standing behind the drake that her arrows will have a better chance of getting under the scales. At this point her greatest hope is to hurt and bleed the dragon enough that it flees, or more likely with its maddened state, bleeds to death. Her hopes are rewarded when both arrows dig in, cutting through the flimsy wings and lodging shallowly into the back. Skipping back from the lashing tail, she sends another arrow only to be blinded by a blast of heat that made the summer sun feel mild in comparison. Belatedly she realizes that no matter how stunted this particular dragon is, it still had a breath weapon, and it had just sent out a long arc of flame as it shifted to the right. The two guards must have had some visual warning since they had both scrambled away. Between that and their armor they were still alive, although the Dwarf was bellowing in pain. 

She felt so strange, like her world was shaking. The sensation started at her feet, a vibration... then she realized it wasn’t some illusion, the earth WAS shaking. Baffled, she looks around, even going so far as to look over her shoulder after seeing that the dragon was busy stalking the noise making Dwarf. 

Nearly choking on an indrawn breath, she shouts out.

“JOSA RUN RUN HURRY!” as she speeds past the Human woman she grabs her with her free hand, spinning the woman around and knocking her off course from flanking the dragon. She feels the air displace around her as the dragon snaps at her head but she doesn’t even spare it a glance as she keeps howling at them to move. A brown furred body careens past her as the three of them finally reach a fallen slab of stone. Havae springs off a lump of rock and manages to get on top of the worked stone in time to see the dragon gaping its jaws wide to bite at the Dwarf, who had been the last to run. An arrow leaps from her bow, the razor sharp arrowhead slices through the tongue and tissue, punching through the lower jaw of the dragon entirely. Not a wound that will kill, but one that causes immense pain. The beast claws at its mouth as the Human and Dwarf toss their weapons up and clamber on top of the slab, where the three of them can see clearly the danger they were all in if they had stayed in the open. Elk, whites of their eyes showing and mouths gaping, stampede down the grassy sward, guided by the forest’s thick edge and the steep banks of the dry creek. As they stare, several of the Elk leap and kick their way over the dragon who looks utterly taken by surprise. More of the hooved animals stream past, a few going so far as to leap up past them, hooves flailing but leaving them unharmed. Most are swirling around the dragon and ruins, but some few, blind from panic, crash into the dragon and knock it aside. With a whoop, Havae leaps straight into the air as she sees the cause of the stampede, her mentor at the back of the herd, astride a large female that looked none too happy about the creature clinging to her back. 

As they draw near, she sees her Ghi’lan drawing his short curved sword, a beautifully worked weapon of old that had been passed down in his family through the ages. Seeing what he was planning, she makes sure the dragon is further distracted by sending another arrow at the flopping dragon, this one cracking scales on the neck. The mounted Elk bounds past, and in mid flight the elven rider leaps from her back, sword in hand. Her heart leaps with him in terror and awe. He is nearly as lacking in armor as she is, just supple leathers to protect from vicious thorns but his tattooed face is fearless as he engages. The blade whistles through the air and gobbets of flesh and scale are flung through the baking sky. The dragon thrashes and the Elf sways and dances with it, avoiding slashing claws and flashing fang. He leaps over the whipping tail, trailing his sword down to score another mark. The people beside her yelled encouragement which changed to consternation as they discovered that their weapons had been kicked off by the Elk in the chaos. Havae’s mouth went dry as she saw that her Ghi’lan was slowing down, little by little. He was no youth, and the dragon was desperate, mad with fury. They scuffled around the ground, spiraling around each other, each now bleeding. She can practically hear his gasps for air, and then his shout.

“Why aren’t you running?!”

“Can’t!”

His response is an inarticulate howl of frustration. She didn’t have time to tell him about the others, didn’t have the words to express that she would rather be devoured than leave him to die alone. That the dragon was simply too strong, had too much endurance, it would hunt them down, it would keep clawing at them until they were all shredded into gory pulp and then devour what remained. Despite her mentor’s best efforts, the dragon drew closer to the slab of stone they were on, shoulders higher than where they stood, and his desperate lunge was met with a swipe of talons that knocked him to the ground, vulnerable to the claws and fangs that were focused on him.

With a shriek like a banshee, Havae leapt through the air to land on the dragon’s back, screaming obscenities in elvish. Drawing her bow back with her last arrow strung to it, she kicks at one of the raised scales on the dragon’s spine and aims down. An impression of white daggers enclosing her face and a dizzying whirl and suddenly she’s flying, the world spinning around her. The air slams out of her and she’s blind, she can’t see and can’t move or breathe and the dragon will eat her any second and she hears shouting and hands on her and suddenly she hears her mentor’s voice calling her a mad thing, to hold on she has blood on her face, the air is knocked out of your lungs, just breathe, and water is poured on her and cloth wrapped around her head to staunch the bleeding and suddenly she can see again and she laughs deliriously as she realizes that she’s alive, they’re all alive. 

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post script to follow. I hope the fight scene was clear enough to follow without being bogged down in detail.
> 
> On the elvish:  
> Ha'ghi'myela is as close as I can guess to "Lead Hunter" for the clan, since that is never cited as an actual position. (ha=elder/wise, ghi'myela=animal hunter, hopefully translating to "wise hunter".   
> Ghi'lan is "guide/teacher"  
> eolas’esayelan is "student"  
> Da’assana is an endearment meaning "little arrow"  
> fen'shan is "old wolf"  
> Dar'eth shiral is "go safely on your journey"   
> Tas dar'eth is "go safely as well"  
> Dahn’direlan is "stupid", literally "person who punches bees. In this case Dahn'isenathalan would be appropriate, dragon puncher which is just as foolish)  
> Ma is "you"  
> Isenatha is "dragon"  
> Josa is "run"


	4. Andruil or...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Havae finds out what she's getting and why.

~~~

“You were fortunate to have survived that encounter.” Solas’s voice is bemused and he’s looking at her as if she were a pleasant kind of puzzle.

“Yes, I don’t think there’s too many people who have had their head inside a dragon’s mouth and walked away from it. Well, aside from Bull.” She traces her fingers over the scars that skip over her face from her jawline to just over her left eye. “So much for my flawless skin that I was so proud of! It was put into perspective for me when my Ghi’lan told me the dragon could have taken my head off instead.” She laughs self consciously at her vanity. 

“Ma ane ina’lan’ehn bell’ana.” Solas’s voice curls around her and she feels her cheeks heat up in an unmistakable blush. The compliment is unexpected, daringly bold for the normally restrained mage. Bull chuckles and rumbles “Awwwwwww.” which makes her face get even hotter. Dorian scoffs at Bull, rolling his eyes and declaring “As if you knew what he just said.” The Qunari (or Tal Vashoth, technically) looks not bothered at all, in fact his grin widens.  
“How do you know I don’t know the lingo? Besides, someone with fewer eyes than me could see a smooth move like that a league away. It transcends language, like I bet you know what I’m talking about when I say-” and here he rumbles some words in Qunlat with his deep voice while keeping a steady eye on Dorian. 

This time Dorian is the one with distinctly flushed skin, even in the firelight and with his dusky coloration. His expression is a blend of affront, suspicion, and a complex smattering of fear and something deep. Havae takes mercy on him and interrupts his sputtering.

“Ah yes, the Vallaslin. Sorry Dorian, I got um, distracted.” Solas’s clear blue eyes have a distinctly mischievous look in them that makes her feel warm to her core. Coughing lightly to cover her smile (fooling no one, she was sure) she caught Dorian’s attention again. 

“It took us over two days to get back to the Aravel, it would have taken longer but I ran ahead for help. The Dwarf that had been attacked first had lost a lot of blood, but he had a strong endurance and recovered with our healer’s help. The guards needed healing too, with the broken bones and burns they both had. My own wounds needed tending before I could have my face tattooed, my face was swollen for a week. My Ghi’lan claimed I was getting a big head from all the attention.”

~~~

Numbing herbs in a tea and salve applied to her wounds does much to deal with the fiery pain the dragon’s teeth have left on her face. Her friends swarm around her, exclaiming over the marks and re-telling the story of her running into camp all covered in blood (and sweat, she reminds them, making them laugh) as if there was an isenatha on her tail, and when when she had yelled for a healer, that traders had been attacked by one, well that was just too appropriate, of course she would be the one to run into a drake on her Vallaslin trial, isn’t she marked after all by her eerie eyes? How brave she was for helping those shemlen, and wasn’t she scared when the beast had been rampaging the way it was? And oh look, how deep it had bitten her! There was no way that there wouldn’t be scars from it!

Her strained smile went unnoticed by the group. Glancing around, she notices a figure that stands out against the sylvan bodies of the Aravel, the Dwarven guardsman. Extricating herself from the group wasn’t too difficult since there was an argument raging about what each of them would have done if faced with a dragon, each suggestion more unlikely than the last. 

“Did one of them just say they would cover themselves in deep mushrooms to repel the dragon?” The Dwarf wheezed out a laugh and winced, holding his ribs. Havae smiled and winced in a refection of the Dwarf, realizing too late that any facial expression would tug on the stitched skin of her face. “Ow, ah, yes, Nenhis hates deep mushrooms and assumes that anyone else with sense would as well. Never mind that the dragon didn’t have much sense. Although I suppose a dragon wouldn’t be inclined to eat mushrooms in any case.” 

“Nah, they’d much rather have a tasty roast Dwarf or a tenderized Elf! Hah! By the way kid, nice job with that giant nug of a lizard. If you hadn’t jumped in when you did, I’m sure my kids would would be weeping over my grave.”

“What about your wife? Wouldn’t she be upset as well?”

“Hah! Caten would be at my grave alright, but she’d probably dig it up so she could give my corpse a proper arse kicking. She told me to come back in mostly one piece, after all.” He looks into the middle distance, likely picturing his fierce wife judging from the fond expression on his face. “Ah well, no need to worry about that now. By the way, with all the mayhem I didn’t get to introduce myself. The name’s Dadic.” and he offers one of his bandaged hands.

“Pleased to meet you, Dadic. I’m Havae, which I’m sure you gathered.” She carefully smiles and shakes his hand equally carefully. 

“Are ya tired of being the hero already? You’re being awful sociable to an outsider like me.” 

“I guess so...Well truthfully, it’s a bit much. I mean, that’s why I was apprenticed to the hunters, I like going out, exploring and finding things. Meeting people too, I guess. Everything is so _different_ outside the Aravel, and some of us never bother to step foot outside of it. I heard that some clans are even more closed off though. I don’t think I could stand that, never seeing that things, people, can be different…” Her words trail off, unable to express the crushing emotion she feels at the idea of never growing. 

“Huh. You’re a weird kid, but a good one. I bet you’ll be going places, and I don’t mean just looking at the scenery. Speakin’ of looking, there’s that tough as dried jerky teacher of yours, he’s another one I need to thank for yanking my bacon out of the literal dragonfire.” At this he guffaws and yelps in pain in quick succession.

She laughs in response despite the pain. It was worth it.

~~~

She kneels in the well lit tent, striving to portray serenity and maturity when what she wanted to do was gawk and ask questions. After the purification and ritual cleansing she had donned soft elaborate robes and been guided into the elder’s abode, which had been perfumed with sharp smelling incense and decorated with symbols of the gods. She could still hear murmured discussion even now about what form her Vallaslin would take, which she gathered was highly unusual. The tattooist placed a decorated pillow on the ground in front of Havae, then arcane looking instruments, then a decorated bowl. She smiles at Havae’s attempt to look solemn, giving her a wink before she turns to speak with the elders. “Has a decision been reached about our clan member, who this day becomes an adult?” Keeper Deshanna glances at the others around her, until her eyes land on the clan’s Hunter. “You have had some things to say about this, don’t you Ha’ghi’myelan? I am willing to be persuaded.”

He steps forward and kneels before Havae, dark eyes looking into fade-touched green ones. His familiar face has some new scars on it from the battle, although nothing to match the ones carved into her face. She had been reassured that they would heal well, that the redness would fade and there was no nerve damage. It was still shocking to see her reflection, which she knew full well she was lucky to see since one of the massive teeth had just managed to miss her eye when the dragon had flung her off his back.  
“Eolas’esayelan, when you first saw the lovris isenatha, what went through your mind? Was it that it was a trophy for our clan? Something that needed to be put down? A challenge for yourself?” His voice is without judgement, questing for an answer.

“Ah, no, ghi’lan. I...Don’t think I was thinking. I just couldn’t let those people be killed, even if they weren’t Dalish.” She didn’t know what this was about, didn’t she face down a dragon? Didn’t she use the weapons of Andruil?

“Did you hold the Vir Tanadahl, the way of the three trees, in your heart?”

“Oh! Um.” She casts her eyes down, perturbed with herself. “No, ghi’lan. All I could think of was how to stop the isenatha, how to save everyone, and to stop it from killing you when it had knocked you down.” His hand touches her chin, near the fresh scar, and tilts her head up so she can see his smile. He then looks to the Keeper and raises his brow. 

“Hmm, I see what you mean. Very well then, unless anyone else would have words about it, Havae of clan Lavellan will have the Vallaslin dedicated to Mythal, for her deeds show she is a protector of all, but in deference to her training to Andruil, they will be done in the color of the leaves. Lay down, child, and when you arise you will be an adult of the clan.”

Head spinning, Havae lays down, head on the pillow, eyes looking with some confusion at her mentor who smiles wolfishly down at her. The tattooist nudges him aside and crouches by her tools.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added a TON more text, and hooray for more Dorian and Bull! 
> 
> On the elvish:  
> Ha'ghi'myela is as close as I can guess to "Lead Hunter" for the clan, since that is never cited as an actual position. (ha=elder/wise, ghi'myela=animal hunter, hopefully translating to "wise hunter".  
> Ghi'lan is "guide/teacher"  
> eolas’esayelan is "student"  
> Da’assana is an endearment meaning "little arrow"  
> fen'shan is "old wolf"  
> Dar'eth shiral is "go safely on your journey"  
> Tas dar'eth is "go safely as well"  
> Dahn’direlan is "stupid", literally "person who punches bees. In this case Dahn'isenathalan would be appropriate, dragon puncher which is just as foolish)  
> Ma is "you"  
> Isenatha is "dragon"  
> Josa is "run"  
> Lovris is "brown"


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are wrapped up, and people are wrapped up in blankets.

~~~

“Even being here as long as I have, it still seem weird that nobody knows what they are until they...Are.” Bull is back to stargazing after listening attentively to Havae’s tale.

“I think being a clan, where the size of the population varies a lot, requires...Flexibility. What if you were chosen to be a hunter early on, but it turns out you were bad at it? The clan would starve, or at least suffer.”

“The Tamassrins sometimes reassign people but...It’s pretty rare. They usually get it right the first time.” By his pensive expression, she knew he was thinking back to his “re-education” when the constant fighting in Seheron burned at his soul. 

“In any case, my actions over time seemed to convince the elders that I should be dedicated to Mythal, the Protector.” Dorian stirs and breaks the mood.

“So did that mean you couldn’t be a hunter anymore? I’m unsure how restrictive the Vallaslin are on what you’re allowed to do.”

Havae’s eyes flash in anger for a moment. “I am free, and no slave to the clan or anyone else.” Dorian looks taken aback, while out of the corner of her eye she sees Solas startle then smile wryly. Abashed with herself for responding so strongly, she moderates her tone. “Sorry. I just...To answer your question, no, the Vallaslin are more of an...Or I should say, in Clan Lavellan, the Vallaslin are more of an indicator of someone’s tendencies, their...Spirit? It’s a personal thing, an individual thing. "Allow" has nothing to do with it, it was more my pride and wanting my mentor to be proud of me that made me want the Vallaslin of Andruil more than fear of being kicked out of the hunters.” She waggles her hand in the air, searching for words. “I was still a hunter, but...A kind of specialist. I like people, so I would be sent out as first contact with unknown groups. I was trained as a hunter, so I could defend myself if that group proved hostile, or simply evade them in the woods. I like solitude so sending me out alone was never a problem.”

“And when rumor reached your clan about the Chantry reaching out to the Templars and the Mages…” Solas cocked his head in that quizzical way he had, where it seemed like he knew the answer but wanted to hear what someone’s thoughts on the matter were. 

“I was the ideal candidate to go spying.” She chuckles at Bull’s “thumbs up” gesture. “Unlike some of the more, ah, traditional hunters, I would be able to assess just what was going on. Well, in theory anyway.” She looks down, troubled, at her left hand that glows with an eerie green light. One that her eyes matched a little too well. She shakes off the mood and smiles up at the trio around the fire. “Still, I’ve done fairly well for myself, even if not in ways that I would have ever guessed on that day. Particularly where it comes to friends.” 

“Hah! I think we all could say that!” Dorian gives an imaginary toast to the air and rolls into his blanket. “Very well, curiosity sated and all that. I expect I shall have terrifying dreams of dragons and elves.”

“How will that be any different than any other night?” Dorian peers out from his blanket to glare at Bull, who promptly closes his eye and pretends to be sleeping. “I didn’t say nothin’.”

Havae laughs softly at their continued quibbling and is suddenly overcome with a yawn. Stretching, she catches Solas through her slit eyes with a momentarily avaricious expression. Pretending she didn’t notice, she tilts her head up to allow the moonlight to light up her profile. She was, after all, a hunter. And one does not just chase down the target, but lures it in. Smiling softly, her voice carries out in the night. “Good night, my friends. Sweet dreams.” One last laughing glance cast at Solas, and she settles down to sleep.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm calling this done! I hope anyone who has read this story enjoyed it, and if you didn't please feel free to comment on what I could have done better. This is my first time back writing in quite some time so I'm sure I have a lot of work to do, but I thought this wasn't too shabby overall.


End file.
